


Times in the Kitchen

by mysticaljayne



Series: More Entwined Than Thought [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels are Dicks, Angels of Destiny, Breakfast, Bunker, Dean Cooks, F/M, Magic School, Referenced Crossover, Team Free Will, bad innuendos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11658936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticaljayne/pseuds/mysticaljayne
Summary: Just because someone can make potions that can vanquish a demon over three centuries old, doesn't mean that same person can bake cookies. Dean? Well, he's actually great in the kitchen, when he has one to cook in.*I had two versions of this in my head, this one is the one that is not explicit. If this has a good enough response, I just may write the other one.Probably could be for general audiences, but wanting to be safe for the rating since there are some referenced stuff in here. Also some innuendo.





	Times in the Kitchen

**Then:**

“Did you bake these?” Dean picked up one of the cookies just thrown on a plate beside the stove. He looked suspiciously at it before looking back at the redhead digging in the refrigerator.

 

She laughs, and it’s one that he has learned to associate with her making fun of herself. In a way, Ali and him were a lot alike. Not that he’ll ever admit it to her. “Yeah right.” She drags out some kind of thing that he has also learned to not ask about. Last time it was the brain of a werewolf. “I can’t bake. Or cook.” She just went back to fiddling with the odd looking piece of meat she had stored in there.

 

That made him laugh. “You make potions but can’t bake cookies?” He couldn’t help the jab, but felt a little bad at the way she froze before methodically chopping the thing up into little squares.

 

She’s great with a knife. Another thing that drew him to her time and again. Dean hadn’t known he had a competence kink until she came into his life with a pair of handcuffs.

 

“The feminine arts weren’t exactly a priority for me. Survival was.” Another slice down, and Dean was moving into her space to wrap a hand around hers. He slid the knife from her and place it down next to the thing that he preferred to not think about it.

 

Instincts honed by practice had him spin the sometime hunter around in his arms so that he could watch the surprise on her face turn to lust. He pushed his hips into hers and bent down so his lips barely touched her neck. “You know what kind of arts I like.”

 

Her smile was just on the other side of mischievous when she leans forward and gently nips at his earlobe. “Give me a demonstration?” Her hands land on his back and they are each pulling towards the other. Dean lets out a groan as her hands wander lower and down past the waistband of his pants to grab his butt with greedy hands.

 

He reaches back with one hand to grab a wrist. He pulls back a bit before lightly chuckling, his forehead pressed against hers. His breathing calms a bit and places a quick kiss to her lips before letting go of her wrist. He slowly moves his hands to land on her waist, always careful of how skittish she could get when emotions happened to run high. “Bedroom?”

 

The first time she had ran and left him handcuffed to the bed, naked. Well, she had also just figured out he was a hunter honing in on her hunt, but that wasn’t the point.

 

“Don’t want to scar my people?” Her smirk wasn’t completely innocent, and neither was his need for privacy. Some of her ‘friends’ weren’t the kind you wanted to be caught with your pants down. Especially the ones that didn’t care much for hunters, or anyone not willing to share (Wyatt).

 

Dean’s smirk was close to matching hers, “Not tonight.” He pulls her close and starts to lead the way from the public areas and into the privacy of a room she had handed out when him and his family had run for a safe haven. Years ago, he never would have called a witch when trapped, but now? Now he was doing things that he never would have thought of doing.

 

A light giggle has him looking down at her and he can’t stop the smile from forming on his face. The woman that he has, literally, seen cut through demons like a hot knife going through butter, was willing to enjoy some time between the sheets with him. And was giggling at the thought of the kind of looks her people would throw her way if they happened to be awake at this time of night.

 

Her people, not his. His people, if they had happened to be out in the hallway that night, would have rolled their eyes at the eldest Winchester. He was always out chasing a skirt, why should tonight be any different? Though they would be surprised at the chuckle the hardened hunter was making.

 

 

 

**Now:**

 Dean had been excited when they found a kitchen in the bunker, and really had been excited to find an excuse to try to use the thing. The problem he’s had is that the only people he could cook for was his brother (Sam was in a mood) and Cas (who tasted the molecules, not the combined product). So, when the witch/hunter/thief showed up last night with a sigh and covered in blood, he saw his chance.

 

She had sighed before asking for a place. Thinking back, he should be wondering how she knew about the bunker but couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Her disappearances for months at a time had given him patience when it came to information. His own wanderings across the country with his family made him even more of a hypocrite if he complained.

 

“What are you doing?” The question had him turn around with a nervous chuckle to look at the woman that had a bad habit of coming in with a bang before leaving like a whisper.

 

Dean knows his look is charming, but also knows that his people (yeah, he’s started to think of her as part of the extended family, how messed up is that?) know his propensity for being full of crap. “Showing off my sexy kitchen self.”

 

“More like messy self.” Her dry tone had his grin grow even larger so that it may just reach the real side between what he really felt and what he showed the world. “What are you cooking?”

 

He goes back to flipping over the food before it has a chance to burn. “Breakfast. First meal of the day. Sammy would say the most important one.”

 

Dean nearly jumps at how close she was able to get when she says beside him. “Never tell Chris that. He claims that’s dinner.”

 

He just nods to her, also used to references to people that he barely knows at this point. Her circle expanded outward in different directions than his own did. While most of his people were hunters, her people ranged. Truly, they may be the only hunters that she knows now. “You’ve never had my breakfast.” He winked.

 

“If its anything like your dinner,” her voice dropped and got a husky quality to it, “I’d like to have seconds.”

 

He looked her way, amused, before turning back to dinner. “Now, I do have a bit of class, Ali.” He turns over the bacon. “At least take me out first.”

 

She pulls out of personal space to lightly chuckle. “I prefer home-cook meals. Less of a walk to the bedroom, if you get my drift.”

 

The silence is just starting to turn companionable when Dean lets curiosity get the better of him. “What happened?” He wasn’t going to ask, but whatever it was must have been something for her to find her way to the Bunker instead of one of her safe houses.

 

“Couldn’t I just want to stop by and see my two favorite hunters?” She asked coyly before quickly giving up the act. “The Angels of Destiny are dicks.” She finally answers, all of the fake playfulness gone as she pulls down a plate.

 

How she knew where the plates were, Dean has no idea.

 

He raises his eyebrows for a moment at that, not sure where this line of conversation was going to go. “All Angels are.” He finally comments, when she didn’t seem ready to go any further.

 

She pulls a knife from somewhere and starts chopping up some vegetables that he’d pulled out but hadn’t got around to cutting yet. “They want me to do something that I don’t want to do.” She cuts through a bit harder than those vegetables needed to be.

 

Sammy loves his rabbit food.

 

“Then don’t.” He answers, thinking that would be the easiest explanation.

 

It really wasn’t.

 

She scrapes the vegetables into a bowl. “I had to call for Wyatt.” Dean looks sharply at her, knowing how much she likes to call for help from personal experience. “A dark-lighter got Parker. They had me trapped so I couldn’t get to her. It was either call him in to an obvious trap or watch her slowly die. He’s the only healer I know that would have heard me.” She explains, her expression one just a step away from defeat. “I hate prophecies.”

 

“Team Free Will.” Dean puts the food on plates, thinking that Sam should be up soon even if he is in a mood. “There’s always a choice.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, giving a reassurance even when he felt just as torn up about the way power is played. “Still didn’t explain the blood.”

 

She waved off the last sentence he spoke, considering it not really a worry. “They tried convincing me to call for myself before they got Parker. Idiots.” Dean tenses at that, having an idea of what it could mean for the woman who coldly laughed during one of the hunts that they crossed paths with.

 

_‘Why won’t you die!!!” The man-beast yelled, mentally throwing the redhead through glass and wood. Dean had been surprised when she had stood back up, fingering a piece of the wood that she had just pulled out of her thigh._

_With a laugh, she threw the wood straight into the creature’s heart. “Because I can’t.”_

“Staying for breakfast?” Dean asks, wanting one answer but expecting another. She hadn’t taken off before he woke this time, so it was a slight nudge towards the one that he was silently hoping for.

 

She looks down at the plates before looking at him out of the corner of her eye. A debate was going on behind them that no one would be able to determine that outcome of. Evil and good all wrapped up together, where one choice could decide so much. “Sure. As long as I get some dessert.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one is part of the series that has the OFC running around. I have two versions with one without and one with. This was just something I found on my computer and decided to go ahead and post.


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